Jedi Fugitive (The Bad Batch)

4:

Astera:

The parlour door slid open, four big frames filling the doorway. They were all decked out in black and red armour, but it was impossible to mistake the shape of their helmets. Clones. And not just any clones.

Clone Force 99. Or as they preferred to call themselves, the Bad Batch. I hadn't seen them in years, not since Saleucami. A lifetime ago. Though they'd made some new... changes. I couldn't see the sharpshooter, Crosshair, but there were still four of them. Had they taken on another clone before the war had ended?

I shifted on instinct, turning away even though my face was hidden by my helmet and ignoring the stiff ache as the movement pulled at the half healed blaster wound in my abdomen. Lucky I had it on. It had been two years since the mission we'd run together on Saleucami, but they would be sure to recognise me. At least they had never known me by the nickname I had assumed now.

One hand drifted towards the blaster holster on my thigh, ready for anything. Were they here for me? It had only been a couple of weeks, and I had been so careful. There was no way I could have been discovered already.

Despite not knowing their intentions, my mind was already working, formulating a plan of escape. The big one, Wrecker, would have to go first. I couldn't take him in close quarters. I could blast him before they even realised where I was. Flip the table, use it as cover. But by then they'd know where I was. They were trained better in blaster combat; if they were really here for me, I'd have to use my lightsabers to escape. Take out Tech, the mysterious fourth clone. Hunter was the most skilled at close combat; I could engage him after I'd dealt with everyone else.

"We're looking for Cid. You know him?" Hunter had approached Cid already, cleaning out one of the machines. I exhaled slowly, easing my hand away from the holster. Here for Cid, not me.

The look on her face told me she wasn't about to start dealing business with clones, especially clones who didn't even know who she was. Good. Maybe they'd be gone before they could even see me.

A young girl, around twelve or thirteen years of age, stuck close to Hunter's side, peering out with wide eyes. I hadn't noticed her before. What was she doing with a group of clones like these?

"Cid, huh? Nope, never heard of him." She dismissed him immediately, going back to her cleaning without a second glance.

"Well, what about them?" He indicated Bolo and Ketch, arguing over their game of dejarik again. I shifted again, further into the shadows so he wouldn't catch me in the corner table.

"Was I not clear? You're in the wrong place. So unless you're here to spend money, get lost." Cid turned away from them, picking up her tools and moving to the bar. A clear message in itself. The entire party began to discuss among themselves, all except for the girl, playing around with the offline dejarik game, who was now considering Cid with a different look.

"What's your deal, tiny?" she demanded of the kid, who'd crossed the room to look at her.

"You're Cid."

"You're sharper than your friends over there." Cid crossed her arms, looking at the four clones still talking.

The girl interrupted them over the comm on her wrist, pointing up at Cid. She fixed them with an unimpressed look, but nevertheless waved them through to the back room, sending a pointed look at me. My mouth pressed into a thin line, but I pushed the drink away and followed her, taking up a post at the wall across her office. Not what I wanted to be doing, but it was my role for now. Until I was healed enough for my own missions.

Their talk lasted no more than a few minutes, and before long, the door had opened again and the four clones had emerged again. The girl was looking around curiously, poking through the various crates Cid kept lying around.

"Who are you?" She'd noticed me on the back wall. Abruptly, I pushed off the wall, twitching the cloak so it sat over my blasters, and the lightsabers concealed with them. The ones I couldn't bring myself to take off or leave behind, no matter how dangerous it was.

"No one you need to know, kid."

"That's Ashe," Cid called her attention back to her. "She works for me."

"I'm Omega." She waved. "I like your armour. It's got nice colours."

"Come here, Omega." Hunter called her back, glaring at me suspiciously. Omega left, returning to the side of the Bad Batch, still staring at me curiously.

"If you weren't still recovering, I'd send you with them." Cid gave me a look, one I returned. Even if I was fully healed, not to mention working without clones, I would have flat out refused. Despite only ever seeing them once, I'd had enough of Zygerrian slavers for an entire lifetime. "Muchi's one tough rancor."

"I really hope you're not expecting me to work with clones. You know I don't trust them."

"You'll work with who I say you'll work with. Don't forget you still owe me, Astera. You may have my silence, but there are other ways you can pay up. Do we have an understanding?"

My lips thinned. "We do."

"Good." She clapped me on the shoulder, oblivious to or completely ignoring my strained grunt as the gesture sent shockwaves down my injured arm and side. "Now go and keep watch over the bar. I've got things to do."